Etched into My Skin
by CatTails x TigerLilies
Summary: Memories are sacred. They form the shape of your soul, the very core of who you are. Memories are precious, but sometimes they hurt, they become scars that are etched into your skin. [AU drabble collection.]
1. Clipped Wings

She wasn't there when it happened, but she swore the moment it did, a shiver ran down her spine and the wings upon her back shuddered like crumbling leaves in the wind. The once gentle breeze that caressed her turned violent, unforgiving, as if protesting against something. Her eyes, as bright as a summer sky, narrowed slightly and she pivoted her body in the direction of the wind. It sent her brilliant mane of night and day thrashing around her body, and for a moment she thought she could hear a scream in the wind, the tone almost familiar to her...

"Merli?" The soft voice of the Princess drifted in her ears as the winds died down and she turned once more, giving her attention to one of the only people important to her.

"It's nothing, Princess. Let's continue." With those clipped, formal words, the small group she watched over continued their walk through the courtyard without another moment of hesitation, but in the back of her mind, something dark settled, and she found her heart heavy with loss.

* * *

Pain.

It hurt, certainly, but it wasn't the right word to describe it. How does one even put it into words, the feeling of something so vital, so precious, being ripped from your very core? The muscles in his back clenched, a scream clawing its way through his throat. Ringing filled his ears, his mind an incoherent mess of words and sounds and every thought that could pass through his head at this very moment. He could feel the rawness in his throat, heard an earth-shattering cry of agony ring through the air, and for a moment he couldn't place the sound. But when it did, his world crumbled.

The ringing in his ears faded to the dull roaring of the wind around him. He could almost hear its concern, echoing through him in its quiet, quiet whisper, the one he knew better than his own voice. He blinked against the blackness threatening to overtake his vision, forcing himself to hold himself together, to look up, to see.

His wings still twitched manically in his father's hands, trying to escape his tight hold even after the deed had been done. His stomach lurched; he clamped down on it, fighting against the stinging taste of bile in the back of his throat. He could feel his own blood leaking down his back.

"Let this be an example of what happens to traitors." The General dropped his son's wings to the filthy floor. "Now begone."

He let his head hang as he was dragged through the portal, tossed through like garbage. His back sang with slow burning agony as he collided with the ground, and he managed to lift himself up just long enough to give in to the rolling of his insides, emptying his stomach in the dirt before his strength failed him. He closed his eyes against the feeling of the entire world spinning, letting out a low groan.

As he sank into unconsciousness, his last fleeting thoughts were of vivid azure pools, too blue to be real, and the disappointment he imagined they would soon be filled with. His heart sank, heavy with regret.


	2. Tresses

Honor. The military they served was big on that, being honorable, being knightly, being something admirable and worthy of time and effort. Every military has signs of the prestige an individual soldier has earned. Some are medals, some blades, but the Fae's military did not use either.

Theirs was hair.

It had always been this way. Young or old, male or female, the stronger the soldier, the longer their hair was. It was just how their kind worked. The reason wasn't clear in the slightest and, honestly, the specifics for such an unorthodox display of power has been lost in time. Nevertheless, it is a tradition that has been upheld by the Onelilian Army for generations.

As its most prominent, and powerful, members, Wil and Merli were no different. Wil's hair, as dark as night and mussed just so, trailed behind him, the ends brushing against the back of his knees when removed from its normal neat, elegant braid. He had a knack for keeping his hair in place. Years of training and fighting had made him practiced and precise, something his protege, bless her heart, did not possess.

Merli, like her mentor, proudly wore her hair at great lengths. The cascade of blue-tinted amethyst fell to her knees in a silk curtain, flowing freely, or, when she had a moment, pulled up into a haphazard mess that resembled a ponytail. Unlike her mentor, however, the poor girl was absolutely hopeless at such things as simple as pulling her waves of hair into a quick braid, even when the well-consolidated hairstyle was much more feasible in the heat of battle than a tail that flew loose on the wind. Merli could spar like professional, harden her heart in battle within moments, and concoct a plan that will ensure victory, but when it came to weaving her hair into an easily executed braid, she was completely at a loss.

He had seen her struggle on more than one occasion, and was often left speechless at how incapable she was. She would attempt to braid it, but when her normally sure fingers, to an infantile clumsiness, could not weave the strands accordingly, she would grow frustrated and pull it up in a vain attempt to keep it out of her face. Wil had thought about offering to do it for her, just so it wasn't such a chore for her before drills and missions, but he would stop himself just before he asked. Their hair was sacred; their kind didn't let others touch their hair easily. Too many fae would love to strip someone of their power ranking just to get ahead. For one of their kind to allow another to touch their hair was one of the greatest signs of trust, intimacy and respect. Wil had been Merli's mentor since she was young, but the young warrior did not dare assume he had earned such trust.

His trainee was a many deal of things, but trustful was not one of them. Her heart had hardened even before they met, and even after all these years, it had not yielded. Wil knew this, he accepted it. Merli would always remain closed off-it was just how she was, how she functioned. He was long since used to it.

So it had been the last thing the warrior expected when one especially windy day, while they were stationed in a training camp not too far from the border, Merli plopped to the ground in front of him and sat. Wordlessly, she held up a hair tie behind her, azure eyes fixed firmly on the horizon. Wil blinked, looking back and forth from her to her hand, his jade eyes wide. He felt his chest tighten, choking on the sudden warmth he felt rising in his heart. It felt good, to have earned such trust from the notoriously cold-hearted young fae.

Silently, he took the tie, slipping it on his wrist before easily taming Merli's gemstone hair into a tight braid with military precision. Tying it off, he tapped her shoulder and sat back, observing his handiwork. Wordlessly she stood gracefully, as she always did and turned to him, her braid whirling around her, expertly crafted, and with it gave her a whole new fierceness, a confidence that could not be contained. She looked every inch the warrior she was. He couldn't stop the small smirk that danced over his lips, growing ever wider at the sight of her fierce grin. Her eyes danced with a new kind of light that was both mischievous and _whole_.

It became routine after that. Without fail, before every mission, every battle, every meeting, Wil would braid Merli's hair back and out of the way, easily consolidated and out of her face. Simple as the style was, many agreed-it suited her.

…

Delicate hands hardened at the tips from years of wear and tear clumsily ran through a multicolored mane, trying in a vain attempts to pull it into something akin to a simple pleat down the center of the back. A growl rippled in her throat and with a sigh of frustration she yanked her long tresses up into a high ponytail, just enough to keep it out of her face, but not enough to keep it out of her line of vision. It would always move to her line of sight, and would get in the way, but she didn't have the skill to place it in a neat braid. She never did. There was only one person who she deemed able to touch her knee length locks.

But he wasn't here anymore.

No, he had been gone for many years now, to where, she did not know. The story always changed from one source to another. Some said he was dead, had been killed on enemy soil while on a solo mission; others claimed that he had been captured. The most popular theory seemed to be banishment, though no one could guess why. She didn't know anything but one day he had been there, one day he hadn't been. It had been a shock. Merli always saw him. He was a punctual person who was never late, so while others wondered if it was just that, tardiness, Merli thought otherwise. It disquieted her nerves and made it hard for her to focus, but she continued on with the thought that perhaps he had a mission to complete on his own. After all, he was one of the best, and everyone knew it.

But he never came back. And she stopped waiting-at least that's what she told herself.

She also told herself that she didn't miss anything about him but the convenience of somebody being able to braid her hair for her. Not the sure, gentle fingers grazing over her scalp or the scent of his wind, not his habit of whispering his family's names before a battle and certainly not his ability to reign her in and calm the storm inside her with just one firm utterance of her name.

Merli growled as she blew a free tuft of hair out of her face, not thinking about how she couldn't remember the exact green of his eyes. _Jade or spring leaves… Shut up, Merli._

…

He couldn't get used to it.

It had been years now, but he still felt off balance, like his head was suddenly too light. He stared blankly at the mirror, jade eyes focusing intently on his hair. Dark, thin, but short. At its longest, it didn't even reach his ears. He tugged on one choppily cut lock in front, as if a good yank could extend it.

The first thing they had done upon his sentencing, fifty minutes after turning himself in, was chop off his hair with the blade of his own dagger. They'd cropped it as close as possible, nicking him in a few places where the knife came too close to his dark skin. It had looked like he'd received a bad buzz cut when he first was thrown through the portal. It had grown some since.

He frowned, a common thing for him nowadays.

Wil supposed there were worst things they could've done to him. His back muscles tightened at the thought-there were worst things they _had_ done. But he didn't think he would ever quite adjust, not completely, to losing a symbol of strength that he had taken such pride in for many, many decades. He twirled a bit of dark hair in his fingers; it wasn't even long enough to pull back into a tail, let alone braid.

His fingers tightened in his hair as his thoughts took on a mind of their own, an image of aquamarine eyes and soft lilac hair running through his fingers. Merli.

He wondered how she was doing. If she was still alive or had done something stupid and gotten herself killed. If her hair was still long. Who braided it now? He almost smiled at the thought of her ineptness when it came to something so simple, so basic.

Try as he might not to think of home, gods, he missed her.

Wil tore his gaze away from the mirror, turning on the sink to finally start brushing his teeth. He sighed as he wet his toothbrush, not thinking about how more than part of him hoped her hair was in a ponytail instead.


	3. Rain

It was pouring when he first arrived on Earth, but it didn't really register, not until later. Electric shocks of pain ran through his back, as if he had metal rods poking out just enough to attract it. Each breath, even the most miniscule of movements, sent screaming tendrils of pain clawing down his spine, overwhelming him, making it impossible to focus on anything else. All he could do was curl up on the cold ground, let the rain pelt his body and soak through his clothes and skin, trying in vain to shake off the rhythmic convulsions of agony that swept through his frame.

He didn't know how long he laid there, shaking, rain soaking through his hair, his skin, seeping into his aching bones. Soft, clacking footsteps broke through the haze of pain and cold that fogged his mind, coming steadily closer. He lifted his head from the ground, forcing his eyes to focus on the blurry figure approaching. All he could make out were a pair of blue heels standing inches from his face.

"Poor thing, you're just a mess, aren't you?" a voice murmured. It was wisened, rough. Wil wondered idly if they had a pack a day habit. His head sank down again as his strength failed. His sight was fading again. Shit.

A hand touched his cheek, wrinkled and gentle, blissfully warm. "Don't worry, soon you'll be right as rain."

He didn't respond, his eyelids growing steadily heavier. Right as rain, huh? He let out a weak laugh as darkness claimed him again.

It was surely raining, but nothing felt right at all.

…

Like the summer showers that burst into existence with a clatter of thunder and luminescent fissures in the sky, their entrance into this new world was filled with light and two figures tumbling through a portal. It snapped closed, disappearing as quick as it had come, and they were left there, one figure clutching another close. Dark hair fell in rivers around a lithe body, already beginning to get soaked through. The weather had turned and there was a torrential downpour, dousing the earth in the life giving element. Merli couldn't be bothered with it. Rain did not matter to her, none of it mattered, just the person in her arms.

She slept peacefully, unaware of the events that just recently transpired. Hard azure pools warmed, filling with grief and regret. She didn't want to have to do it, do any of this, but if this was what it took to bring back her sister's sweet smile, then so be it. Let her be a deserter, a kidnapper, a villain. All of it was fine, if for her sister's sake.

Merli tightened her grip around her sister's sleeping form and curled into a corner of the alley, shielding the girl from the icy rain with her own body. She just had to wait for it to stop, keep Lapis safe and as dry as she could, because right now there wasn't much else she could do. Inwardly, she kicked herself. It was stupid not to do research first, not to find them a place to go _before_ fleeing to the human world. _Fool… Idiotic, reckless fool._

She continued muttering soft curses at herself as the rain began coming down harder, the relentless patter of water pouring upon the sidewalk drowning out all other sound. Water soaked into her clothes, her hair, dripped on her dark skin and seeped into her bones. Her shivers made her teeth clatter, though it was just what she deserved for being such an idiot.

She didn't notice the soft footsteps approaching her, didn't hear a soft murmur of surprise. Her azure gaze flicked up from her sister's sleeping face only when a shadow loomed over them, the rain suddenly not pouring over her every pore.

A green umbrella, held up by a dark, calloused hand. Her gaze followed the hand, up a corded arm coated in swirling black ink, past a broad shoulder. Merli's eyes trailed over the neck and up to the face, before widening into twin azure saucers. Words escaped her as she met the warm jade irises that still haunted her dreams.

"Well, fancy seeing you here," Wil greeted, the ghost of a smile playing upon his lips.

Merli remained silent, still arched protectively over the sleeping Lapis.

Her former commander crouched down, still holding up the umbrella as he peeked beneath her. Staring at Lapis. He was quiet, pensive as he analyzed the girl. Merli wanted to scream, but the words were caught in her throat.

 _Why are you here? How are you here? I thought you were dead. Why aren't you dead? Where in the gods' names have you been for the past fifty years?_

Instead, she stared at him, taking in the changes that half a century made. His hair was short now, grey-black locks barely reaching the tips of his ears, when once it had been worn proudly to his knees. The years had softened the hard lines of his face, smoothing the rough edges; he looked… kinder. It was a stark contrast to the midnight swirls of ink that twirled and curled over the dark skin of his arms, starting at his wrists and climbing upwards to disappear under his shirt sleeves. He was so different, but so painfully familiar that it made her heart hurt. Questions buzzed in her mind, one after another, but she couldn't say a thing. Her body was at war with her mind, making her unable to relax and pull herself from the tense coil she had wound herself in around her sister. She just stared, bright eyes wide and shocked.

"...Mind telling me how you got here?"

Wil's deep voice broke her from her reverie, and she felt herself crouch down further, pulling Lapis as close as possible to her person. Everything came rushing back and she felt the paranoia rise, her senses on high alert. She kept her mouth shut, no sound escaping from her. Wil watched her, waiting for a reply that wouldn't come. Eventually, he let out a deep sigh, shutting his eyes and facing towards the gray sky. The rain was beginning to lighten, just a little bit.

He stood up and offered her a hand. "It's not good to stay out in the rain like this. My place isn't far, you can stay there for tonight, at least."

Stay at an unknown place, in an unknown area, in an unknown world, with someone she had thought to be six feet under for fifty years? It didn't sit with her well in the slightest, but she needed somewhere dry, not for her, but for the frail girl clutched so tightly in her arms.

Gods, she was desperate.

She cast another weary glance around the area around her and stood, ignoring Wil's outstretched hand, Holding her sister bridal style, she spoke not a word, but with her actions alone, let him know that she was ready to leave. Wil's ghost of a smile didn't falter, and he held the umbrella out so that she and Lapis would remain covered, even as the rain soaked through the thin fabric of his shirt.

"Come on, let's go. It's only a few blocks. Then we can get you two dried off and you'll be right as rain."

Merli didn't voice it, but as the rain continued to fall from the sky, soaking the earth under her feet, she felt a small kindle of hope spark in her chest.


	4. Reunion

It had been a day, twenty-four long hours, and in those twenty-four hours, Merli had not said one word to him. It was disconcerting, but he expected it, expected how quiet she would be, lost in her thoughts, on alert and unwilling to speak until she felt that there was no longer a threat on the premises. It was how she functioned, how she always dealt with things. He had no illusions of her bursting into tears, tackling him in a hug, bombarding him with question after question; that wasn't how she was. He took her silence in stride as he had brought her into his apartment and helped her to settle herself and her younger sister in, both by allowing Merli use of his shower and lending the girls some spare clothes.

Yet, even in the face of her usual behavior, he became more than a little worried. She wasn't hurt as far as he could tell, but what reasons would she have to wind up in a filthy alleyway with an unconscious princess and such panic in those azure eyes? It didn't make any sense, and the longer that Merli's silence reigned, the more concerned he grew for his ex-subordinate and the blue-haired girl who was sleeping, blissfully unaware, in his guest room.

He was the one who wanted to tackle Merli and bombard her with questions, but he would restrain himself. Wil knew the girl well, and so he knew that forcing her into anything would only produce the opposite of the desired results. The ex-warrior settled instead with keeping himself busy, be it by tidying up, making dinner for his unexpected guest, or as he was currently, fixing himself and Merli some tea. Turning around, the two mugs in his hands, he watched as his ex-protege paced anxiously around his apartment, looking out windows, checking the locks and, more than anything, constantly peeking into the room where the princess slept. She was nothing but a ticking time bomb at that moment, and, if he wasn't careful, the littlest thing could set her off, detonating an explosion he definitely wanted no part of.

Carefully, making sure to make enough noise to let her know he was still here, but quiet enough as not to alarm her, he sat down in his favorite arm chair, setting down the mugs carefully in hopes that, when she was ready, she would finally sit and drink to calm her nerves. Picking up his own mug, he sipped from it carefully, jade pools following her small form as she made another loop around his apartment, as if waiting for someone, or something, to come barging in. It was painful, watching her. He knew she wouldn't let it show, but Wil was well-versed in reading the subtle nuances of Merli's body language, thanks to decades of experience. She was scared, truly and utterly terrified, and he still had no clue why. It unnerved him, to say the least.

She paced incessantly, her bare feet making little to no sound against his floorboards. He thought for one terribly inappropriate moment given the circumstances, that she was going to slowly form a rut in his wood flooring if she kept up that pace. He was nearly finished his tea now, and knew that hers had gone cold in her mug, left completely untouched. Picking up her mug he went to rinse out the cups and refill them, when she suddenly stopped pacing. He watched the tenseness in her shoulders ease, just the slightest bit, as she finally stood still before sinking wordlessly to a seat on his couch. Wil quickly refilled their tea and rushed back out from the kitchen, placing a fresh mug in front of the young fae. It eased his own nerves to watch as she slowly picked up the mug, taking a cautious sip. He sank into his own seat, feeling considerably more calm already.

The silence between them turned slightly less tense, slightly more peaceful. The two sat quietly, sipping their tea, so the only sound in the room was the steady ticking of the clock on the wall. He waited patiently for her to speak, not wanting to push her. She tended to shut him out when that happened. It was a subtle thing, really, how she did it, but he knew when he had crossed the line with his questions, and he had learned to tread carefully. Merli trusted him, but she was a secretive person, and preferred to keep painful experiences to herself, even if doing otherwise would be to her benefit. However, this wasn't just about her. He knew it, and he knew she knew it, and that she would have to give him an explanation eventually, otherwise he could do nothing to help her in whatever it was she got herself tangled into this time.

Wil sipped his tea, and was debating fixing himself some coffee instead when his attention was drawn away from his cup by the quiet but firm "clink" of an empty mug being set on the coffee table. He looked up, jade eyes focused solely on the lilac haired fae who sat across from him, staring at her tightly clasped hands. He sat forward in his seat, elbows resting on his knees.

"Would you like some more tea?" he asked, eyes not leaving her. He watched her knuckles whiten, fingers twisting into the fabric of her borrowed shorts. She didn't look up as she spoke, voice cracking slightly with disuse and something else that he knew she would rather he didn't identify.

" _How?"_

He remained silent, thumbs running over the lip of his mug as he thought, gathering his words. It would only be fair, if he expected the same out of her eventually. Wil sat back in his chair, gazing into the distance as he thought back on much-reviewed memories.

Clearing his throat, he began. "Let's see… It wasn't too long after you were assigned as the royal bodyguard. The General had been having me do solo work, special op stuff. Some of the lesser nobles had been caught planning to rebel, and obviously they had to be taught a lesson so that they didn't attempt any such things again in the future. I agreed with that much.

"What I didn't agree with was when I was expected to murder the youngest daughter of one of the heads of the insurrection as punishment. She couldn't have been older than her fifth decade or so, just a little girl who had nothing to do with anything. I refused to kill her, so instead I took her home and saw to it that she was tucked safely into her bed before heading back myself and turning myself in. The General didn't take defiance very well, all things considered, and of course he didn't want any stains upon his or the family's honor, so the whole thing was kept very quiet and taken care of quite quickly. Within three days of returning from my mission, I was court-martialed and convicted of defying direct orders and high treason, and was sentenced to banishment. So, they cut my hair and threw me through the portal, of course not without roughing me up a little first."

Wil paused to clear his throat again, sipping at what was left of his tea and scratching anxiously at his shoulder blades. Taking a breath, he continued.

"By the time I actually was in the human world, I could scarcely lift my head. Probably wouldn't have made it at all, had it not been for the landlady. She found my sorry ass in the alley and took me in, bound my wounds and nursed me. She's fae too, actually, decided to come here on her own long before either of us were born. You'll probably meet her if you stick around; she comes by for dinner fairly often. Once I was fully functioning again, she gave me an apartment to stay in and taught me how things work here, helped me to find a job so I could take care of myself. So, that's what I've been up to."

He set his empty mug down, rubbing absently at his tattoos through the sleeves of his long cotton shirt; they were just barely visible through the thin white fabric. Wordlessly, he watched Merli, waiting for her response. Her eyes were locked on his arms, staring at the faintly visible ink.

Wil smiled, a small, sad smile. "Would you like to see?" he asked.

Merli nodded and he stood up from his chair, pulling his shirt up over his head and casting it off. He turned away from her, showing her the full expanse of his back. Night black ink covered the dark skin, following the curves and ridges of his toned back muscles, starting at the small of his back and flowing upwards and outwards over his shoulder blades and down the expanse of his arms. The markings reminded Merli of the runes they used to describe wind.

Her eyes traveled the artfully swirled tendrils of ink, oh so carefully placed to follow the lines of his muscles. They were mesmerising, and, somehow, their appearance marked something different for him, something significant. She could feel it, like lead settling deep into her bones, as if looking at his tattoos were revealing a carefully kept secret. Her brows furrowed and her frown deepened, not liking the feeling, and that's when her eyes spotted them.

They were faint, nearly impossible to distinguish under the dark ink, but they were there. Two fine, jagged lines of puckered flesh, striking downwards from his shoulder blades and towards the base of his spine. She found herself still, that pit in her stomach settling into something dark and foreboding. She traveled the short distance between them and ghosted her fingers over the scars. _Scars_. Where his wings should be. _Where his wings should be, but they're not._ She felt the air leave her lungs, and her body tremble. No, not his wings. They took them.

"Your wings..." Her words were all but muttered, muffled by the ringing in her ears.

He didn't move, but she could feel him tighten beneath her fingertips. "Yeah." His voice was quiet, oh so quiet.

Her chest constricted tightly, even though she could feel her heart slamming against her ribcage unevenly, painfully. She pulled her hand back, nursed it against her body with the other, as if she had been slapped, and perhaps in her mind she had. They had hurt him, hurt Wil, one of the only people she's learned to trust in all her years of living, through all the nonsense she's been through. He had been the first to welcome her when she had arrived at the barracks, been the first to take time to understand all her quirks, all her fears, understand how she functioned, and worked around it to teach her, to mentor her. He was the strongest person she knew, and his wings, well, his wings were always an extension of who he was. It was like his body was nothing but a vessel, something his wings held on to, while they thrived and hummed with his heart and soul. She could never, in a million years, imagine him without them. Flightless, unable to soar through the clouds as he always did.

Yet here they were, and there he was, stripped of a part of him that was so integral to his being, forced to live a life devoid of what he loved more than anything, and the only symbol of that tragic day was etched into his skin, a reminder of what had happened, and what it meant for him.

Her lips parted, all she could do was breathe out his name, still too frightened to use her voice fully, not yet, not until she had control, but it tremored, revealing the earthquake she felt in her limbs. So many 'what-if's ran through her mind, one after another, in succession like flickering lights, lighting up one idea before being distinguished to bring forth a new one. What if roles had been switched, what she had been faced with the choice he had to make. What if? What if? But none of that mattered now, not when it had already been done, and there was no reversing it.

Her legs felt like lead and raw dough all at once, making her body teeter dangerously before she let herself sit hard on to the table, millimeters from sending his mug flying across the room. She felt anger, raw and rabid, like a grease fire out of control, then regret, deep and consuming, as if she were drowning in the murkiest of waters, and sadness, washing over her in violent waves, stripping her of any coherent thought to bottle away these emotions as she always did, and she knew, that if her friend had turned around in that moment, he would see it too.

She sat there, limbs shaking with barely contained grief and rage, not moving as she saw Wil put his shirt back on from the corner of her eye. He turned to face her again, crouching down so that he could meet her eyes.

"Merli," he breathed, soft yet firm. The storm inside of her calmed some. She didn't move as she felt his warm hands cover her tightly balled fists. "Look at me."

Slowly, she obeyed. Pulling her head up to meet his jade eyes, she memorized the familiar lines of his face. There was such a difference to him now, such a sadness in his eyes, but…

"I'm still me," he told her, gently squeezing her hands. They were so much bigger than hers, softer than she remembered, and warm. She soaked up that warmth, letting it melt some of the ice that had lodged deeply in her bones. Letting out a shuttering sigh, she leaned forward, resting her head in the crook of his shoulder. He still smelled the same. Like a thunderstorm and fresh earth.

Her voice cracked. "I missed you."

She felt his hand lift up and begin stroking her hair. It felt nice. "I missed you, too."

They stayed like that for a long time. If there had been wet spots on his shirt where she had buried her face, neither of them said anything.


End file.
